“Wow Professor, I’ve been having the weirdest dreams.”
Professor Xavier and I were having another one of our campaign strategy meetings within the confines of the Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator for President of the United States Headquarters.
“That’s very interesting, Jon,” the headmaster for the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning said while scratching his chin.
“They are?” I replied. “I haven’t even told you about them yet.”
“Oh, what?” Professor Xaiver stopped rubbing his chin and looked at me. “I am sorry, I was thinking about something else. What is occurring in these dreams of yours?”
“Well, first I dreamt that I fought George Washington and gained his strength,” I said. “Then I dreamt that I gained the Courage of Abraham Lincoln, then I dreamt that I gained the Tenacity of Teddy Roosevelt. I’m just wondering what I could possibly dream of next.”
“I suspect that you are on a spiritual quest,” Xavier surmised.
“No kidding,” I answered. “I mean, I figured that out while I was squirting ketchup all over Lincoln in a concession stand. I’ve been thinking about this and if I use the first letters of their names, maybe it will spell something. I’ve got W, L, and R. W, L, R. Willer. Willer? What’s a Willer?”
“I am not sure Jon,” the professor conceded. “What makes you think that using those letters will get you your answers?”
“Well, it’s a guess really,” I shrugged. “I’m thinking that it’s something similar to the source of Captain Marvel’s powers.”
“You mean the Kree warrior Mar-Vell? His powers came from those Nega-Bands.”
“No, the other Captain Marvel.”
“The Avenger Captain Marvel, of course,” Xavier nodded. “She was bombarded with extra dimensional energy.”
“No, not that one,” I replied. “The other one. The Shazam one. He says that word and he gets the strength of Hercules and the speed of Mercury and all that.”
“Oh him,” the professor answered. “We don’t talk about him much where I come from. You may be right, however. As a suggestion, what if I have one of my X-Men monitor you as you sleep -- one of my telepaths. I’m thinking Emma Frost. I can call her and have her here in just a few hours.”
“That sounds like a good idea—hey wait a minute,” I said. “Is this just a scheme to get her here so we could have a hot woman walking around in her underwear all day?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Xavier smirked.
“Well it is a good plan,” I nodded. “Speaking of plan, you had another plan to get at my opponents?”
“Ah yes,” the Professor smiled. “This idea is simple in its brilliancy. We will send invitations to everyone you are running against to visit a mansion owned by an eccentric millionaire.”
“You mean all of them?” I asked. “Including Tony Stark, Dr. Zaius, Professor Monkerstein , iSplotchy , Samurai Frog, Dr. Smith , and Sleestak?”
“Yes, all of those that you just conveniently mentioned plus many, many more,” the powerful mutant replied with a smile. “Once they all meet each other there, they will discover that it’s a haunted house! We’ll film the whole thing as they run around through different hallways, in and out of doors being chased by ghosts the whole time. I would even wager that when Monkerstein finds the kitchen, he’ll stop to make a giant sandwich only to run away after being comically frightened by one of the ghosts!”
“Yeah, I heard that Monkerstein gets the munchies when he’s scared,” I laughed. “Is this haunted house really haunted though?”
“Of course not,” Xavier waved the thought away. “There’s just somebody in there pretending to haunt it so he can get the treasure that’s buried in the basement. But the other candidates will be so busy running around scared that they’ll fall behind in their campaigning!”
“Did you think of this plan while watching television? Maybe a cartoon or something?”
“Now that you mention it,” he thought for a moment. “I do suppose that I was. Do you think they’ll figure it out?”
“Of course not,” I assured him. “And it’s a brilliant plant.”
“Then it’s settled.” Xavier looked at his notes. “One more item, your vice president.”
“Fluke Starbucker,” I replied.
“Right, what I’m trying to say is that your choice here—”
“Fluke Starbucker,” I repeated.
“Right,” Professor Xavier nodded. “I’m not entirely certain that he’s the best choice.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t think his elevator goes all the way up to the top floor if you know what I mean.”
“Oh you mean on his ship,” I said. “Yeah, he told me about that. He has to take a ladder through an access hatch to get to the top deck.”
“No, what I’m saying is that he’s a few sandwiches shy of a picnic,” the powerful telepath carefully said.
“Man, that would suck,” I said. “That’s one quick way to spoil a picnic. That and ants. Thunderstorms, too.”
“No, I’m saying that he has bubbles in his think tank.” Xavier tapped his head for emphasis.
“Think tank? Is that his new computer?” I asked.
“No, what I’m saying is that I’m not convinced that Fluke is the best choice for a vice presidential running mate. I don’t think that he has the mental facilities required for this sort of thing.”
“Yeah but the chicks dig him,” I answered.
“Really?” the Professor asked.
“Really,” I nodded. “They’re all over him man. He has to fight them all off with one of those bolt tighteners.”
“You mean a wrench?”
“No,” I said back. “One of those tools that you tighten and loosen bolts with. You know, a bolt tightener.”
“Nevermind.” Xavier seemed to be getting a little frustrated with our exchange. I couldn’t understand why, but maybe he didn’t know enough about bolts to know the difference between a wrench and something more complicated like a bolt tightener. With the time I’ve spent with Fluke, some of his bolt-turning expertise has rubbed off on me. I’ve even heard him talking about recipes using bolts. There’s pineapple bolts, lemon bolts, coconut bolts, pepper bolts, bolt soup, bolt stew, bolt salad, bolt burger, bolt sandwich, all kinds of recipes. I don’t think that I’ll try any, but it’s obvious that Fluke likes his bolts.
“I’ve got Fluke out campaigning already,” I said. “I’ve sent him to the swing states of Alaska, Puerto Rico, and California.”
“You do realize that those aren’t the traditional swing states, don’t you?” Xavier inquired. “Puerto Rico isn’t even a state.”
“I know that, but I guess that I’m just a non-traditional candidate,” I grinned. “Everything that I’m doing is going to be non-traditional. I’m sending him to all the sub-swing states that don’t get the campaign action that the regular swing states get. Get it?”
“I think,” the professor replied.
“See, these states are tired of being ignored. No one goes to Alaska because it’s cold, no one goes to Puerto Rico because it’s not a state, and no one goes to California because no one is really into politics out there. No one in Hollywood has cared about who was in the White House for nearly two decades. That’s why Fluke’s going to Hollywood.”
“Frankie goes to Hollywood,” the professor countered.
“You know, Frankie Goes to Hollywood,” Xavier said. “They sang Relax.”
“What does that have to do with what we were talking about?” I asked.
“Oh nothing, I just thought I’d try one of those non sequiturs that you always think are funny. Pretty good huh?”
“I keep telling you that I don’t ‘do’ non sequiturs,” I snapped back. “I just have a short attention span.”
“I’m sorry, did you say something? I was thinking about something else,” the professor said dryly. Then he chuckled.
“Yeah, pretty funny,” I laughed. Then we both laughed, then we froze and the credits rolled. That was a pretty awesome CHiPs ending. I love those endings.